All Tough, All The Time

Escape from LA

It may have involved the loss of a kidney and the better chunk of a day, but I’ve finally made it to Guam. Who would have thought that traveling into the future could be so hard on the butt? Yes, there’s nothing like coach seats (especially those shoved betwixt two other coach seats) to give a whole new meaning to the term “wall-ass.” But enough about the completely predictable hazards of extended travel: here’s what happened during the journey.

Brent and I left Fort Collins on Friday afternoon via the Shamrock Shuttle (motto: “Service with a smil…ing leprechaun”), our destination being the Denver airport (an airport with more land area than the city of San Francisco. Literally.). From there, we took more shuttles to our respective hotels. I stayed at the Hampton Inn, which was a pretty nice place. Their exercise room left a lot to be desired, but I won’t hold that against them. The wall composed entirely of mirrors was a tad creepy, though, especially if, as I suspected, there were cameras back there.

The next morning, I was up bright and early at 4:30am, which is coincidentally the time my Mom wakes up EVERY DAY. I find it amazing that we share so many genes. Anyway, I took the shuttle in, went through security (and the additional screening that I always seem to get… I think it’s the scruffy beard), and made it with plenty of time before boarding. This was made especially true given that the flight crew didn’t show up until half an hour after we were supposed to leave. D’oh! Apparently, they were confused (or had received the wrong information) as to what flight they would be on that morning. Personally, I think it may have gone a little something like this: “Hey, Frank, you want another shot of Tequila?” “Oh, geez, I dunno, Dianne, we do have to work tomorrow. Ah, what the hell.”

Even though the crew was late, I’m relieved that they arrived. I mean, what would we do without the flight crew there? It would be utter chaos! Seatbacks and tray tables would not be in their fully upright and locked positions. Peanuts would sit locked away in cabinets as passengers slowly wasted away. And how on earth could you possibly operate your seatbelt without their expert assistance? “Let’s see, I think I slide this flat end into the fold here…no, maybe not. Okay, I think this thingy with the lever goes under that other metal piece here. Damnit, why won’t this work?! Maybe I should just….ARRRGH!!!” And then you’d just tie it in a knot, too frustrated to go on.

Soon we boarded the plane and all was well. Or so we thought. As we were taxiing out to the runway, the pilot came over the intercom with the usual words of encouragement: “WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!!!” Just kidding. He actually said, “Folks, I know we’ve already been delayed, but there’s something wrong with the plane and we need to have maintenance take a look at it.” Around we went, back to the gate. The problem was minor: they just needed to change one of the tires under the nose (that must be one beastly jack), but this was sufficient enough to ensure that there was no possible way we would make our flight to Honolulu.

Once in LA, we decided to see if we could get on another flight to Honolulu and, since we would definitely miss the flight to Guam, we could at least stay in Hawaii for a day. In your dreams, dirt bag! Or so the folks at American Airlines seemed to say. This wasn’t really an option, for many reasons that I won’t get into. Albeit a minor setback, they hooked us up with free lodging at the Embassy Suites, which ended up being quite fancy pants. It had a big, open lobby (it was open to a glass roof in the center, with the rooms along the perimeter) full of plants and pools, many of which contained coy, ducks, and even turtles. It may be best they kept their doors shut to avoid the influx of wildlife.

The next morning, we managed to get to the airport without a hitch and, more amazingly, onto our flight without problems. The pass through security was made interesting by a singing TSA security agent ("More bounce to the once...you knoooooow what I'm talkin' 'bout!") and, for the first time along my journey, I wasn't selected for additional screening. Yes! They merely strip searched me. Ouch.

I had the pleasure of sitting next to a really nice young woman (and, yes, she was beautiful, much to Brent's jealousy, especially since he had to sit between two rather large and unsavory people). Her name was Eileen, the daughter of a Salvadorian mother and Mexican father. She loves LA and has lived there her whole life, which is an interesting contrast to the often negative things I here about the city. We had a great time talking about all sorts of things, including her business in Honolulu. She works for an accounting firm and she was going to be on Hawaii for 3 days auditing the Teamsters. That's right, one of the most notorious unions ever. She assured me it was pretty boring stuff, but I think it at leasts sounds cool (if not slightly dangerous). She and her coworkers apparently had an offer to go out on a yacht belonging to one of the union's members. Hmm, attractive young woman in bikini on the yacht of some shady character, all in the setting of tropical paradise. Sounds like an episode of Magnum P.I. or perhaps Hawaii 5-0, though I never saw that show. Let's hope she made it back safely to her hometown of LA without being held hostage at uzi-point.

The flight was smooth, on time, and made much more tolerable through good company. All the passangers even had their own little TV set (luxury!). I watched Secondhand Lions (one of the producers of which is the aunt of Evan, a friend of mine from Patuxent), a part of Beauty and the Beast, and, let's not forget, elephant sex. Yes, Eileen and I got more than an eyeful of a male elephant's member. That is one scary (albeit impressive) sight. I have never seen a female elephant run so quickly in my life.

We had a brief layover in Oahu, during which I got my first helping of humid tropical air while sitting in an open air portion of the terminal. The transition between flights was very smooth in that we took the same plane to Guam. That way there was no going through immigration, moving of checked baggage, or changing gates. I love Hawaii. The trip to Guam was a tad more painful, in that it was a couple hours longer than the flight to Hawaii, my butt was already a bit sore, and I was jammed in a middle seat. However, the folks I was sitting next to were cool (one guy, who didn't talk much, appeared to be in the military, while the girl on my other side was an engine mechanic). The girl, whose name was Wendy, I think, was only going to be on Guam for 5 days, after which she was going right back to the states. Oh boy! Such is the life of someone in the military.

Finally (and I'm sure whoever is reading this is thinking the same thing, but for different reasons...), we made it to Guam. Our bags were there and, after making it through customs, we met up with Andy, the rodent biologist on the project who picked us up. Andy is a really nice kid and very much a midwestern boy. He doesn't swear (just like [not] me), is polite to a fault, and oozes wholesomeness (and I mean that in the nicest way). He talks a lot, but apparently no more than I write in these blogs. And on that note, I'll leave the further tales until my next entry.

Posted by Isaac at February 5, 2004 11:41 PM